by A L Carter
Chapter 10
Jenkins & Jones
Jenkins drove slowly back to headquarters unsure if it was worth the effort. Did he have anything left to live for? Throughout their twenty-one year marriage, she had been a frightful nag, with always something to moan about. This normally related to him and the job. Even though its wages kept her in the lifestyle she expected especially when he was promoted to chief inspector. Her own job just seems to be for extra spending money for her. In their years of marriage, they had never had children, neither knowing whose fault this was. He secretly wanted kids but she never expressed an interest so consequently, the subject was never brought up. At least he did not have to worry about non-existent offspring. However, even with all her selfishness and moaning, he had always loved her and never strayed. This was not for the want of offers either, with fairly handsome looks and position of power. But it just was not in him even though he enjoyed the attention that his wife never gave him. He pulled into the car park at the headquarters, stopping the car, turning off the engine, and sat there in deep thought. Jones was a good man; he had known him from the start of his career. Being an ex-military man himself they both had a lot in common and he knew the man had no family to speak of. He had not sought out promotion, in fact, he openly avoided it, content in his simple Bachelor lifestyle. Maybe Jones had it right all along, he mused. Anyway, he had to pull himself together and help whoever was worth helping in this broken world.
Jones had been waiting over two hours now for Jenkins return he worried for his old friend. Admittedly, they had not spent as much time together as perhaps they should have done outside of work. Having the occasional swift pint after work more often in their younger days and sometimes that swift pint extended into a decent drinking session. Later he would tell stories of the ear-bending he would receive from the missus. This greatly enforcing his own choice of a single lifestyle. That was not to say he never had girlfriends because there had been a few. However, he had always been open about the fact that he enjoyed his single life and had no plans for marriage or kids. On the surface, some seemed to be accepting of this. In the end they all seemed to want to change him, some being quite bitter towards him. This he felt quite difficult to cope with and he detested arguments and confrontation. He had always been the perfect gentleman with them and never mistreated or abused any of these women. Which is something he found abhorrent in men and knew many so-called happy marriages were not what they seemed? He had known plenty of officers that told him that he should find a woman and settle down when he knew full well the first sniff of a new female at the station were immediately in competition to be the first in her knickers. Jenkins, however, seemed to be a man of greater distinction not seeming to be swayed in his morals. Even when his wife did seem like an awful bitch and he probably should have left her years ago. Suddenly he heard the buzzer go and hold down the speak button.
"Can I be of assistance?" He said.
"It's me Jenkins's," came the reply.
He breathed a sigh of relief and pressed the door control which allowed momentary access. Seconds later Jenkins appeared looking like a man who had just lost everything, which could mean only one thing. He had been unsuccessful and his wife was now dead. Jones left his desk position and guided the grief-stricken man to a comfortable chair.
"Sir just wait here a moment," he instructed leaving the room for a few minutes.
Returning shortly afterwards with a steaming mug of sweet coffee spiked with some of his secret stash of whiskey.
Jenkins took the mug gratefully and took a good sip, then seemed to ponder for a moment.
"Jenkins you appear to have spiked my coffee with hard liquor, you do know that I could have you on a charge for this?" his face remained hard but amusement twinkled in the chief's eyes.
Jones picked up on this but played along, "Yes you are quite correct sir of course and you must do what you see fit."
Jenkins took another long swig of coffee, contemplating his next move.
"Now then Jones I've given this great thought," he began keeping the suspense going.
"Yes sir," he encouraged.
"And great leniency all depends on how much of this fine liquor you are keeping on the premises, illegally I may add," he continued.
"Two bottles sir minus the wee tot in that coffee you're drinking," he replied.
Jenkins finished the coffee and looked at the sergeant, "Then it's decided then, your punishment shall be to get right royally pissed with me celebrating my wife's wake the silly cow that she was."
"But of course sir, it would be a great honour," Jones agreed finally cracking a smile.
Jenkins woke to the sound of a buzzer going but his mind could not comprehend what that meant. His head pounded and his mouth felt dry as a desert. There was that annoying sound again, he opened his eyes and the light hurt his eyes. He sat up on the sofa he had been laying on, both the room and his head spun in protest. Trying to work out where he was and he eventually recognized headquarters very own staff room. Then some realization came to him.
"Jones you there?" he slurred.
A grunt came from somewhere, then the buzzing again but holding it down continually now. Something moved on the floor, it appeared to be alive. The blurred mass of movement and grunting eventually transformed into Jones, who began to unsteadily stand up.
"Who's ringing the bloody buzzer my heads banging here," he moaned.
Jenkins did not feel he had the words in his head yet to answer yet and just groaned his own reply. Jones staggered out of the room, moaning all the way. Jenkins felt he had a duty to follow but this was not an easy task when your legs don't feel connected to your body but he managed to stumble out into the corridor with the aid of the walls to lean on. The trouble was though now the continuous buzzer got louder the nearer he got to it. Thus increasing the pain in his head. But thankfully Jones had completed the journey to the buzzer and held down its button. Saved, good old Jones brought peace for a moment at least.
"Oi, you fucking pigs in there?" Came a loud voice through the intercom and destroying that moment of peace.
"Who wants to know," Jones growled.
"The fucking boss wants to know that's who!" The voice enforced.
"Chief inspector Jenkins is on duty today and I may add is the boss," Jones replied.
"Not any more he fucking isn't Mick Fletcher runs this manor now and that includes this pig house," the voice informed.
Jenkins felt himself sobering up fast, "Is that David Perkins taking?"
"My names Dave as you well know," he scowled, laughter sounding behind him.
"Is Mick there can you put him on," Jenkins asked.
"Jenkins how this zombie apocalypse suiting you eh?" a deeper voice came over the com.
"Well it's a bit of a surprise really and things could be better," Jenkins offered.
"Yeah it's a bit of a shocker but you've got to move with the times which is probably difficult for an old fossil like you," Mick stated with laughter coming from behind him.
"Be as it may what can I do for you Mick," he asked feeling with trepidation that he already knew what was coming.
"Well it's like this the old worlds gone and there isn't no more law and order, so whether you like it or not were taking that station," Mick informed darkness in his voice.
Jenkins let go of the com for a moment, this made things private and turned to Jones.
"What do you reckon, what do you think we should do," Jones asked.
"If I know Mick Fletcher he wouldn't say something unless he could back it up, but now he's probably got a tidy arsenal and a growing gang of thugs to back it up," he replied resolutely.
"But where does that leave us?" Jones asked ominously.
"Good question Jones, and if you feel like going out in a blaze of glory I'm more than willing to go for it, there are a few guns back in lock up and a limited amount of ammunition, but I don't think we'd win and there still may be a way of getting through this al
ive," he offered.
The buzzer sounded its annoying drone again, "You haven't gone shy on me have you," Mick demanded.
"No Mick just discussing this predicament over with my colleague," Jenkins admitted.
"So how many of you are in there?" Mick asked.
Jenkins thought about lying and giving the impression of higher numbers of potentially armed police, but that could backfire badly as he knew Mick's reputation well.
"Sorry to disappoint you but there's only me and Sergeant Jones," he confessed.
"How do I know that you're not pissing me around and there's more of you lot hiding in there ready to ambush us," he suggested.
"Fairpoint Mick, but alas no I was considering bluffing you though and pretending that there were more of us," he said honestly.
Mick and company chuckled enjoying the scenario, "Fair play to you for that but I prefer no games."
"Neither do I and this is how I see it, plan A, you lot force your way in here which will take you sometime I'm sure that both me and Jones will give a good fight taking a few of your lad's with us until we eventually die," he started.
"Or," Mick persuaded.
"Plan B and we do this peacefully and you let us take one of the police van's from around back with a few supplies to keep us going," he offered.
"I like your style Jenkins and as usual you manage to take a situation a cut straight through all the usual bullshit to get to the point," Mick stated.
"It's what you call old school," Jenkins explained.
"Well I vote for plan B even though plan A sounds like fun, but not practical," Mick answered.
"What you say, Jones," Jenkins asked with the com open.
"Well I suppose B then," Jones chipped in begrudgingly.
Everyone outside obviously thought that this was highly amusing and started roaring with laughter.
"I take it you got that Mick," he said.
"Indeed, the wisest choice I think," Mick complemented.
With that, Jenkins reached for the door release and crossed everything he had got. Hopefully, he hadn't just guaranteed his and Jones imminent death.
Chapter 11
Dinah's dilemma
Dinah lay there another day had gone by, feeling totally content having a stuffed belly. She was not sure how long had gone by since she had found the master, but she was sure it was too long. The days had gone by much like the first one all day he would hardly ever be still and be doing strange things, like running endlessly in circles. She was content to watch and then stuff herself full of food in the evening. But something was wrong she was supposed to be doing something? Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to remember. Then it finally dawned on her, her mistress who was sad and was on her own. She again felt shame like when she had run away. Here she was enjoying time with the master and forgetting her mistress. Something else also troubled her, it was if he had forgotten about his previous life and the only way he remembered her was she'd found him. She had to show him, make him follow, make him understand. Sleep began to overtake her, I will do it tomorrow, must remember...
The morning came and he'd stripped down in front of the toilet sink having a full body wash. He never usually really looked at himself after the first time he had 'met' himself and feeling shocked and appalled at his poor health, totally unequipped to deal with the apocalypse. But now he was a different man hair had grown on his once bald head, dark blonde in colour. His facial features were now chiselled, with a square chin, but now covered in an unkempt beard, with a strong neck but not flabby. Huge squared off Pecs with muscle striations showing through. He now had barn door shoulders, followed by huge muscular arms, with high vascularity. While having a wide upper back which tapered down to a tiny waist, with no trace of fat. With such rapid weight loss this should be covered in loose sagging skin, but instead was tight over abdominal and muscles. His legs were well muscled and athletic. It was incredible in such a short space of time. He had achieved what he had set out to do and more. Now he was ready for the apocalypse. A bark drew his attention and he looked down. Dinah stared up at his nakedness seeming to smile. He suddenly felt embarrassed and told her to bog off, which she did for now. But still seemed very pleased with herself.
Sometime later after finding some supplies, he dressed different from usual, solid leather walking boots, useful utility trousers, and a black long sleeve wicking top. He had found a leather utility vest, which could hold his throwing knives. Making up a useful survival kit from the outdoors section and filling a medium sized pack with water, protein shakes and foodstuffs from the snack machines. His bow a quiver that clipped neatly to the pack and the crowbar slid into some loops ready to be drawn like a sword. He needed to go outside look further afield; maybe this would jog his memory, as he knew something was missing from his life. Or someone? Dinah had been uppity all morning something on her mind, something she needed to show me. He went to the door and opened it. This place had been good to him gave him everything he needed. He may come back so he locked the door behind him and took the key with him. Before he could think, which way to go Dinah was off at a trot. He followed obediently she knew the way to go. On our way, we soon approached an old blue Ford transit van. A distant memory flashed in his mind he was in the passenger seat hanging onto the overhead handle for dear life. He turns to look at the driver, wanting to know who it was? But then the memory stopped, he felt cheated, this was important. Realizing that he had actually stopped and Dinah was barking at him in apparent frustration at the delay. He carried on following the dog. Suddenly as he approached what appeared to be a village called Ellistown a large group of zombies appeared. The most he had seen since this had started. It made sense, as this was a higher populated area than the industrial area he had come from. There seemed to be over a hundred just in this one area near the pub but he suspected that they'd be more down each residential street. Dinah seemed unperturbed as she ran around them, even through them. However, for him, it was not so easy because he was definitely on the menu. He pulled the crowbar from his pack as they lurched forward moaning. One got to close so he swung hitting its head so hard it exploded sending skull and brain fragments everywhere. The training had paid off but he did not want to take them all on so he dodged weaved and side skirted them. Once he got clear, he put on a turn speed that would challenge the best one hundred meters runners. Along this road, he met several other clusters ready to tear into his flesh but he used the same tactic and any that got to close either lost brain matter or was knocked down by a powerful kick. He kept seeing flashes of ginger as the dog moved unrestrictedly through these clusters, but eventually, she dove right down what appeared to be a farmers track, a sign read bridleway no unauthorized vehicles, 'walkers welcome'. This sign had an irony to it, he loved that show, but he never watched it on his own. Some recognition fired in his brain but was gone again. The closest pack of zombies followed, they were slow but determined. He wondered how long they would follow. Soon he left them far behind their pace no match for them. The way was clear ahead. He gathered not many people came this way, so he was able to follow at Dinah's pace. After maybe a mile at a slow run, the track ended turning into a road. The dog seemed excited and he suspected we were nearly there and he felt a twinge of anticipation. What would he find? Whom would he find, would they be infected? He felt like going back to his hideaway where he felt safe. But he had to finally face his past, feeling that this was important like a part of himself. Somebody might rely on him and be in danger; maybe they thought he had abandoned them, which effectively he had. He followed the dog but felt like he already knew the way. However, zombies now lined the street. He felt something building in him something that scared him. It felt like rage but he held it down and dodged his attackers. Then he was there. His heart sank his rage boiled. The dog barked, and they both stopped and turned to face their home. This he knew with absolute conviction. The front garden was full of zombies. Looking at the house, it looked like it had held off a siege and failed...
>
The front garden sloped upwards so he could see over their heads, the house had been boarded up and reinforced. There were even spikes sticking out at regular intervals, most had zombies impaled on them. But the front door was breached after so much weight had built up on the door it must have given way. This was too much something had built inside of him, something dark and primaeval. A deep growl came from somewhere, low and rumbling, bestial. He looked down at the dog; she looked back as if to say it was not me. Then it overtook him and he gave into it. He ripped into them swinging the crowbar and bodies flew everywhere. If they tried to get back up he'd bring his heavy boots down smashing their heads. He moved forwards like an unstoppable force. They were many, but they were weak and dumb. At this moment, he did not fear them or their bite. Perhaps he was reckless but he did not care. This was his home they dared attack it, overrun it. The dog waited behind him. Minutes passed and he was at door, bodies spreading out behind him. Once inside he continued to destroy zombies. He noticed somebody else had also put up a fight as there were several already killed before he had arrived. Eventually, the house was clear but he was struggling to walk over all the bodies. He arrived back at the front door and the dog greeted him, a stray zombie also entered over the threshold.
